


The Swear Jar

by WritingCreatingStorytelling



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, Chris Evans - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Parenthood, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:52:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4959613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingCreatingStorytelling/pseuds/WritingCreatingStorytelling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Sunday night, Chris has thirty dollars in his wallet. A ten, two fives, and ten ones.</p><p>It was one of the many things his father instilled in him; ’always keep extra cash on you’. (His wife repeatedly teases him about the suspicious singles, to which he responds by taking a jab at his bachelor strip clubbing days. Chris finds it hilarious; Natalia does not.)</p><p>Throughout the week, his emergency stash withers with each new passing day. And by the end of Saturday night, the jar that sits perched on the fireplace mantle that is labeled ‘Evans Swear Jar’ is thirty dollars richer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday

On Sunday night, Chris has thirty dollars in his wallet. A ten, two fives, and ten ones.

It was one of the many things his father instilled in him; ’ _always keep extra cash on you_ ’. (His wife repeatedly teases him about the suspicious singles, to which he responds by taking a jab at his bachelor strip clubbing days. Chris finds it hilarious; Natalia does not.)

Throughout the week, his emergency stash withers with each new passing day. And by the end of Saturday night, the jar that sits perched on the fireplace mantle that is labeled ‘ _Evans Swear Jar_ ’ is thirty dollars richer.

**Monday**

Chris is having one of those Monday’s. The one where he’s pretty sure the universe is out to get him, laughing in his face at every turn. It’s just another manic Monday, and just like the song goes, he really, _really_ wishes it was Sunday.

It starts right after Natalia and Abby leave for school, leaving him in charge of the twins’ breakfast. Only they can’t agree on the same breakfast and he ends up having to whip up two different meals to keep the four year olds happy.

It all goes downhill from there.

He spills milk on the counter while pouring it into the princess themed cups, dives to pop the lever up on the smoking toaster when he hears ’ _daddy, my eggos are on fiyah!_ ’, and stomps on the dog’s paw while trying to manage three things at once. Then, after all that, he suffers through one of their many meltdowns because he _accidentally_ sets the plate with the omelet in front of Thing 1 and the new eggos in front of Thing 2 when _clearly_ Thing 1 asked for the eggos and Thing 2 wanted the omelet.

Regardless, he handles it remarkably well, but the swear jar that’s a quarter full has not called defeat yet. It’s still too early in the game.

Late morning rolls around and Chris survives two more meltdowns; a disagreement on which Disney movie they want to watch with daddy, and which one of the two would be a better Belle from Beauty and the Beast. If it were up to him, he would’ve picked Abby. _She_ was the book worm after all…and not the kid currently testing his patience.

In four months, Chris won’t be the only male in this _very pink_ house. Secretly, he hopes his son doesn’t take after his dramatic personality like all his girls have. How his wife does this day in and day out during the summer while he’s absent, he’ll never know, but she’s definitely holding the title as his hero.

Just after lunch, Chris has never been more relieved to see his mom at the front door. Lisa doesn’t hide the all too knowing smirk that greets his exasperation, and she even lets out a snide remark and sing-songs the phrase _what goes around, comes around_.

“Were we really _that_ -”

Lisa’s roaring laughter stops him mid-sentence, and that’s all the answer he’ll ever need.

She takes the girls on a trip with grandma, the girls all too willing to leave their daddy at the mere mention of being grandma’s little helpers – earning the task of selecting new fish friends for her growing aquarium. It’s exactly the break Chris is in dire need of, given the unread scripts that have started taking over his desk in the home office.

When they leave, he sighs. Sure, he’s going to miss them like crazy like he always does, even after a hectic morning, but right now he’s going to enjoy the quiet time he’s been graciously granted. Needless to say, he has a newfound respect for stay-at-home parents.

And just when he thinks he’s caught a break, the universe reminds him that today is just _not_ his day.

Chris reaches for his phone, knocking over a mug in the process, and he’s left to helplessly watch as coffee seeps through the pages of the script he was reading over. He bites his tongue before the obscene word can rip from his mouth. (Although the kids aren’t around, he still feels the gnawing guilt when he cusses inside the house, as if the jar sits there, staring him down until he caves and shoves the dollar bill with a grumble. It’s another case of Edgar Allan Poe madness, he explained to his wife one night.)

When he finally answers his buzzing mobile, his agent on the other end pisses him off. Josh cackles when Chris lists the day he’s had thus far, and Chris refrains from hanging up. Because he _really_ needs to discuss his filming schedule before the impending birth of his son…and because he’s better than that. Most of the time.

Chris goes through the rest of the day in a foul mood, catching himself before the _naughty_ word he’s dying to say gets the chance to pass through his tight lips. By the time the clock strikes four, he could really, _really_ benefit from a stiff drink.

And just when things can’t possibly get worse, he turns his back for a split second to plug the charger in his now battery dead phone, and the vengeful french bulldog takes it as the best opportune moment to grab Chris’s attention to play. Tommy bolts out of the office, critical film pages clenched between his teeth, and runs faster when Chris begins to yell _no, Tommy!_ and begs him to _stop!_ and _give that back!_

What **saves** Chris the dollars housed in his wallet after he retrieves the now torn and slobbered papers is the return of his girls - _all of them_ ; his wife, mother, oldest daughter, and the two brats that take responsibility for the new grays he would find in the morning. 

What **claims** the two green bills seconds later is the toy that causes him to trip on the way to greet them at the door.

“Fucking shit!”


	2. Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Sunday night, Chris has thirty dollars in his wallet. With each passing day of the week, his wallet gets skinnier and skinnier, all thanks to his potty mouth.
> 
> Rated M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! xx

**Tuesday**

He’s so horny he can’t think straight.

They haven’t had sex in five days and four nights. Between work and the kids and the adult responsibilities that find them day to day, there hasn’t been much time to reconnect intimately. But he fucking craves it – feels like he’s going to explode any second like a ticking bomb. (No pun intended.)

He just really wants a good, _hard_ fuck with his wife. _Needs_ it after a shit Monday.

Tuesday begins with arousing warmth and softness. Chris clings to Natalia’s form without much thought in his sleepy state, but he soon finds himself rock hard against her backside, the soft moan that reaches his ears registering in his foggy brain.

He’s not the only sex crazed one. 

The hand that’s planted on her newly small baby bump begins to move in a tantalizing circle before he presses himself more firmly against her body heat, emitting a low, deep guttural sound.

Natalia responds by shifting her hips to perform an erotic dance, causing the slip she’s wearing to ride up to her waist. 

“Sweet Jesus,” Chris groans when he realizes she’s been sleeping next to him all night without any panties on. 

His boxers briefs become too tight, his long, thick cock easily nestling between her bare cheeks. The friction is just enough to curb the urge to roll on top of her, spread her legs far apart, and deeply thrust in and out of her sweet pussy until she begs for mercy. 

His breaths become harsher, quicker like hers as he rocks in sync with her movements, matching the rhythm that escalates in pace, working themselves up. 

“Baby,” Chris pants against her ear, his itching and daring hands on a mission.

“Yeah,” Natalia moans, feeling his right arm slip underneath her to wrap around her chest while his left hand travels at a snail pace from the slight bump of her belly down to where she’s achingly hot for him. “Oh, Chris…”

He cups her heat, inhales sharply at how wet she already is, and in one swift motion, pulls her up until she’s half lying on him. He really wants to fuck her this way, can already visualize her trying to ride his cock in this position, and his erection throbs at the Impure image.

“We need to do this quick, baby,” Natalia rushes in a breathless whisper, “the kids will be up soon.”

“Fuck, I’m-” Chris pauses, thinking he hears something in the far off distance. When the only harsh sounds of their breathy moans fill the air, he brings his mouth to her ear to continue.

If they have to do this in record time, then dirty talk would have to come into play if he wanted to get his wife off before he did.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.” He rolls a nipple between his fingers, tugging on the pebbled flesh to mix the perfect amount of pleasure and pain. He smirks when his wife squirms on top of him, a gasp slipping through her slightly parted lips. “My cock-”

A small knock stops him this time. They both freeze, his dick throbbing against her ass and her thighs clenching around his grabby hand.

“Daddy…Mommy…”

The frightened voice makes them both want to curse in frustration and call out with worry at the same time. Chris squeezes Natalia once in his arms then let’s up his hold – in both places.

Before Natalia rolls off of him, she tips her head back to place an apologetic peck on his chin. “Later,” she promises, smiling when his erection pokes her in reply.

“Fuuuuck..” He drawls in a strangled whine when her body heat slips away.

The knock comes again and Natalia asks whoever is on the other side of the door to give them a second, knowing they both need a few moments to calm down from the sexual high they were on. 

Hadley comes rushing into the room the second Natalia says it’s okay to open the door. She’s dragging a raggedy doll – a gift from grandma that was given to them the day she and her sister were born – and rubs her crusty eyes when she comes to a halt beside the bed.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Natalia asks in a soft, concerned tone. She pulls her up onto the bed, ignoring Chris’s loud, frustrated sighs. Apparently her husband needed a little more cooling time than she did.

“I had a bad dream,” Hadley reveals, maneuvering on the bed until she’s settled between her parents, Sally doll tucked under the covers with her.

“Awwww,” Natalia murmurs, lovingly stroking Hadley’s dark hair. “Everything is okay. Mommy and Daddy are here and we will protect you.”

With her arms around her daughter’s tiny form, Natalia smiles over at Chris, then playfully rolls her eyes and suppresses a laugh when he childishly mimes shoving Hadley off the bed. _What a big baby_.

 _Another morning wood wasted_ , Chris pouts, erection now gone.

Deciding it’s still fairly early, he joins Hadley and settles underneath the warm covers on his side of the bed. He smiles and sighs contently when he feels Nat’s fingernails lightly scratching his scalp.

There is no doubt – she spoils him rotten.

After a long period of complete silence, a tiny, sleepy voice disturbs the early morning’s stillness, “Daddy said a naughty word.”

Natalia can no longer hold back the boisterous laugh that tears from her mouth, thinking to herself just how _naughty_ her husband really is.

Swear Jar - $3

Chris - $27


	3. Wednesday

**Wednesday**

Things start looking up on Wednesday, and Chris begins to forgive the utter shitshow that is called Monday and Tuesday. It’s Hump Day, which has a special way of always bringing a sense of hope to the world. Plus, his amazing, beautiful wife had decided to take the title quite literal.

In other words, Chris finally got laid. Twice.

(Three times if you count the welcomed treat Natalia had surprised him with in their shared shower.)

“Don’t forget to shave off the skin on the carrot sticks or Hannah won’t eat them,” his wife is reminding him as she towel dries her hair. “And if you’re going to pack bananas, make sure it’s the green ones or Hadley won’t touch it.”

Chris secures the towel around his waist and bites down the obscene moan that’s about to slip out of his mouth; the rough texture of the towel is torture to his still overly sensitive cock.

“What time is Lesley pickin’ them up, again?” He asks, with a tap to her waist, and settles in front of the sink when she shifts out of the way.

“She text me last night to confirm 9:30; that way they beat the mornin’ traffic out of Boston and into Providence.”

Chris echoes the time under his breath, embedding it into his brain, and reaches for the shaving kit tucked neatly inside the cabinet below the sink. He doesn’t have all that much time to shave the way he wants, not if he doesn’t want to be in the middle of packing up the twins lunches when their friend’s mom shows up to take them to the zoo. He would like to spend some time with them, eat breakfast and watch morning cartoons, before they head out and he imprisons himself in the home office to finish those stupid scripts that haven’t been able to hold his attention. Unfortunately, he has to settle for a quick trim.

He rummages around the black bag, searching for his favorite trimmers, and smiles, catching Natalia sidling up behind him from his peripheral vision.

“Thank you for this morning,” she says against the spot between his shoulder blades, her whispered breath casting a pleasurable shiver down his spine.

Chris lets out a chuckle, working around her arms that snake around his middle, as he pulls out each and every grooming object he needs to perform the tedious task. “Thank _me_? Thank _you_.”

She places a soft kiss on his still warm, pink skin, then nuzzles him. “Well, I was the one who got the most orgasms out of it.”

The gloating grin is felt against his back, and it takes everything in him not to swell with pride. “Again, thank you for stroking my ego…” His dancing eyes flick up to the mirror, and Chris grins at the arch in her brow that’s peeking from around his shoulder, “…and other parts of my anatomy.”

Natalia laughs. “I totally encouraged that one,” she says, placing another lingering kiss on his skin.

“Yeah, you did.”

She heaves a sigh, grumbling, and he can tell she’s reluctant to slip away, even as she does so, to finish dressing for work. He shares the disinclination to break apart, as if being away from her will destroy the good luck he’s somehow attracted. Like she’s his good luck charm. ( _She is_ , he mentally declares.)

By the time Natalia walks out the door with Abby in tow, Chris is almost ready to praise himself for a job well done with preparing the lunches. He’s thanking the gods for being on his side judging on how well the day is going. 

He whistles to the tune of whatever trendy kid show is on the TV, while shaving and cutting carrots, exciting anticipation rolling through him from Nat’s departing promises of more _humping_ later.

Hadley and Hannah are drinking their milk, chatting about monkeys, and flamingos, and debating whether or not owls live at the zoo.

“I don’t think so, princess,” Chris ends up saying to end the debate before it escalates, “but rumor has it Donkey will be there.”

A chorus of enthusiastic _really_ ’s and _cool_ ’s find their way to his ears, the grin stretching across his face. Today is most definitely a good day.

Getting cocky is his first mistake.

Chris eyes the bananas that are shoved to the side and mentally pats himself on the back for remembering to pack a green one. That’s his second mistake. The knife slices his finger nice and easy, and blood seeps out of the fresh wound before he can even react.

“FUCK!” Chris shouts, dropping what’s become _the weapon of all weapons_ , and jumps to the sink. He doesn’t hear the terrified gasps or concerns from the girls, too busy trying to stop the bleeding.

Minutes go by before he manages to get it under control. 

With a frown on his face and a band-aid wrapped tight around his index finger, he rushes to finish packing their lunchboxes – sans the carrots –, as the reverberation of the doorbell continues to get on his last nerve.

“Daddy! Hurry, Dani’s mom is here!”

Knocking joins the insistent ringing. His good mood is plummeting fast.

“ _Shiiiiit_ ,” he curses again, “okay, almost done, almost done…”

When he finally settles the girls in Lesley’s car, finger throbbing like a motherfucker, he kisses them on the head and wishes them a good time, then thanks Lesley for her patience (refraining from using the prefix _im_ \- to the word patience).

“We really appreciate you taking the girls along,” he adds, toying with the bandage.

Lesley smiles warmly from behind the wheel, and he instantly regrets being such an a-hole, albeit her being unaware to it. He wishes for Nat’s presence. She has a way of improving his sour moods with a single, heart-thumping smile.

“Oh, anytime!” Lesley says cheerfully. “The girls get along great with my Dani. We’re going to have a lot of fun, right?” She calls to the full backseat.

“Yeah!” They respond back, legs kicking.

Just as he says his final goodbye, Hannah pipes up. “Wait, daddy!”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Don’t forget ta add monies to da jah!”

As Chris explains to a bemused Lesley what jar the pipsqueak is referring to, he feels the flush rise up from his chest, reaching the tips of his ears. He’s mortified.

Later, after stuffing two dollar bills in the damned jar, he texts his good luck charm. _Looks like you aren’t the only one screwing me today_ … _Happy fucking Wednesday…I miss you_.

Rolling his eyes at his idiotic slip, Chris adds another bill to the jar, and stalks to his office, defeat in every step.

Swear Jar - $6  
Chris - $24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading xx

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! xx


End file.
